


An Unexpected Assignment

by elephantfootprints



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Except well, Fake Relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship, Undercover Relationship, kind of, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4439087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephantfootprints/pseuds/elephantfootprints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek knows it's never a good sign when the Sheriff calls him into his office and Parrish is smirking and Stiles is excited. This is certainly one assignment he could never have predicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Assignment

“Deputy Hale, Sheriff’s asked to see you in his office,” Parrish says, smirking at Derek. It’s this expression, more than the summons that worries Derek. Parrish smiles a lot. Too much for Derek’s tastes, but it’s always in that slightly off-putting ray-of-sunshine way. The only time he seems amused at the prospect of other people’s pain is when the Sheriff has some humiliating task for Derek.

“Fine,” Derek says shortly, scowling to cover his nerves. Humiliating tasks from the Sheriff usually have something to do with the supernatural side of things and Derek inevitably gets stuck wrangling enchanted kittens in the rain. As he stomps over to the Sheriff’s office, Derek realises he’s not alone. Stiles is in there with him. Great. Keeping a straight face while being told to search the sewers for magical dung is one thing. Doing it while Stiles is in the room, laughing his ass off, makes it next to impossible to remember why he wants to keep this stupid job.

“Derek,” the Sheriff says, gesturing for Derek to enter the room. His smile is warm, but clearly strained. There’s the faint scent of discomfort emanating from him, but no fear. Joy.

“Sir, Stiles,” Derek says, giving them each a slight nod before taking the free chair next to Stiles.

“Would you like anything to drink?” the Sheriff asks. “Tea, coffee-”

“Dad,” Stiles whines, sounding almost like a teenager again. It softens something in Derek, even as it makes him wonder. Yearn. There’s something about family that keeps you tethered to youth, dragging you back to childishness, letting you shed the cares of age. “Derek’s here now, can we please drop the mysterious act. What’s going on?”

“Stiles,” Sheriff says warningly, but Stiles just rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, I have stuff I could be doing,” Stiles says.

“This is important, Stiles,” the Sheriff says. “Now, I know you two don’t tend to work together very much-”

“Derek’s the muscle-man on the street, I’m the computer genius at the station, so obviously this is something supernatural-related,” Stiles says. He’s fished his phone out and started fiddling with it. Derek resists the urge to reach over and take it from him. The tapping is shaking, probably too much caffeine, not actual work. Idiot. “Worked that much out already. Now get on with it, I have some time-sensitive projects that need my attention.”

“It’s not supernatural,” the Sheriff says. Stiles puts down the phone and the fond smile that had crept over Derek’s face falls back into a frown. The Sheriff is shifting slightly, uncomfortable. Embarassed. 

“Sir?” Derek asks. Stiles was right, they rarely work together on normal cases. Anything big enough to drag in both of their departments would have the Sheriff concerned, or at least determined. Not twitchy.

“I’ve been sent a case from some higher-ups,” the Sheriff explains. He’s almost apologetic. “I have the details here for you, but I wanted to talk to you about it in person, first. It’s some undercover work, which I know-”

“Yes!” Stiles says, pumping a fist in the air. “Wait until Scott hears about this. I get to be a mother-fucking spy! Double-Oh-Stiles here I come.”

“Which I know is not what either of you have been trained for,” the Sheriff continues on. Without commenting on Stiles’s language. “But I believe both of you are quite capable of taking this on.”

“The name’s Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles says, grinning. His eyes are bright and he throws his head back to laugh, stretching his throat into a long column of pale, freckled skin. Derek drags his eyes away, focusing on the stone paperweight on the Sheriff’s desk.

“Stiles,” the Sheriff snaps. Derek relaxes.

“C’mon, Dad,” Stiles wheedles. “You want us to go undercover! That is so cool.”

“The reason I brought you both in to talk about the assignment was not so we could discuss how ‘rad’ it is,” the Sheriff says, sighing. His discomfort has eased somewhat in the face of Stiles’s enthusiasm. Derek sneaks a glance back over at Stiles, wondering if this display was genuine excitement or a reaction to the Sheriff’s stiffness. Stiles groans, but the flush in his cheeks doesn’t fade. Maybe both.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t try to act cool, anymore, Dad,” Stiles says.

“Apparently ‘cool’ isn’t cool anymore,” Derek adds without thinking. Stiles drops his head onto the desk.

“I finally get to be cool and it’s become lame,” Stiles moans dramatically. Derek wants to point out that ‘lame’ isn’t PC, but the Sheriff’s unease is quickly morphing into irritation.

“I brought you here,” the Sheriff says, enough bite in his tone to make Stiles lift his head, abashed. “Because I was concerned that the roles you will be required to undertake might be difficult for you, considering the nature of your… friendship.”

There’s a lot packed into that word. Years and fights and suspicion and gradual trust. Yet for all that the Sheriff can fit into the two syllables, he still doesn’t know half of it. 

“Derek and I are cool, now, Dad,” Stiles says. “Or whatever word people are using nowadays. We’re not going to break cover to have some stupid argument. Again.”

The memory steals over Derek and he can’t work out why it feels warm and funny now. 

“No, sir,” Derek agrees firmly, straightening up.

“We’re bros,” Stiles says, holding up a hand for a fist bump.

“Bros,” Derek confirms, brushing knuckles with Stiles without looking. He felt so stupid the first time Stiles tried to get him to this with him, but he’s used to it now. It’s how all the human members of Scott’s pack seem to communicate, and touch is touch. Touching pack is good.

“Right,” the Sheriff says, slightly bemused by the sombre display. “What I am looking for now is your professionalism. This job will require you to cross boundaries that will test your skills and require you to be always thinking of the comfort of your partner.”

“O-kay,” Stiles says, dragging the word out. “What are we going to be, pimps? Drug dealers? Pirates?”

“Married.”

For a moment, the room fills with the Sheriff’s discomfort before it’s overwhelmed with Stiles’s amusement.

“Married,” Stiles gasps. Derek feels himself go very still. He takes two deep breaths and wonders frantically what he normally does with his hands.

“Yes,” the Sheriff says, glaring at Stiles. “And this is precisely why I needed to talk to you both. Stiles, you are not to do anything to deliberately make Derek feel uncomfortable. There will be a short amount of time to coach you both through the sorts of behaviours expected from you to keep the cover strong, but after that it will require careful negotiation.” The Sheriff turns to Derek, looking almost apologetic. “A degree of… affection will be required. There are certain people we cannot have doubting that you and Stiles are a normal couple. They need to believe that you are in love.” He turns back to Stiles. “Which doesn’t mean you need to be all over each other. Small, natural-looking gestures will be enough. Excessive PDA will draw unnecessary attention, and would not be fair to Derek.”

“Right,” Stiles says, a smirk slowly stretching over his mouth. Derek still hadn’t moved.

“Stiles, I mean it,” the Sheriff says. “If I do not believe that you can take this seriously and not take advantage of the situation to try and make Derek uncomfortable I will find someone else. And Derek, if you honestly don’t think you can make the world believe you love my son, I need to know. I don’t want you to feel duty-bound to take on this assignment if you can’t do it. Without the security of this cover, this assignment will very quickly turn very dangerous.”

Derek turns to look at Stiles, his shoulders starting to shake with the need to laugh. All at once everything unclenches in Derek. When their eyes catch, Stiles breaks down, almost sobbing with laughter. 

“Right, fine,” the Sheriff says. “I thought you were mature enough to handle this Stiles, but obviously-”

“No, wait,” Stiles says, gasping. He has a hand pressed to his stomach, and is fighting to regain control of his lungs. “It’s fine, the assignment is fine. It’s just-”

He glances at Derek, tilting his head slightly. Derek nods, stomach twisting even as a small, shy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Stiles grins and leans over, sliding a hand up his neck to cup his head and pull him in for a kiss. Their mouths meet easily, a fond press that ends quickly in deference to the presence of Stiles’s father.

“We’ve been dating for months now,” Stiles explains. “We just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Oh,” the Sheriff says. He glances down at his files. “That should make things easier then.”

Stiles beams at his father. The Sheriff hands the folders over, holding on for a few seconds too long.

“We’ll talk about this later,” the Sheriff warns Stiles. To Derek he simply says, “Two words: wolfsbane bullets.”

Stiles bumps shoulders with Derek as they leave the Sheriff’s office. “Spies, Derek! We’re going undercover!”

“And no kissing while on the job!” the sheriff calls out. “Well, unless it’s _for_ the job!”

There’s no reply beyond a laugh that sounds suspiciously like Deputy Parrish.


End file.
